Alar
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: Sequel to "Brotherhood". History for this fic is set in "Brotherhood"... Kytrel is finding it diffuclt to accept the 'new him' but with help from a friend it's easy. [focus's on Lucifer and Kytrel's friendship]


**a/n: History for this fic is set in "Brotherhood", so if you need a background on Kytrel, that is where you will find it. Sequel to "Brotherhood"**

_Kytrel is finding it diffuclt to accpet the 'new him' but with help from a friend it's easy_

**Alar**

Kytrel had found a place in this new Aerie in the form of an old shed, that was on the edge of the magick barriers that protected the abandoned orphanage and school from prying eyes; Heavenly or otherwise.

It was small and filled with years worth of dust and grime of abandonment, helped in the form of a hole in the rotten roof. Long ago it was cared for by the school's groundskeeper , but the tools had long since gone to rust and the integrity of the frame. He had taken the remaining tools and stored them in a box that he shoved under a wall-table. Other than that, Kytrel left the place as is, over grown and near collapse.

His dark little corner.

The one thing that he did change, though, was that he had acquired several many mirrors over the past time and hung them on every available space.

There was a reason for this, of course, and not a vain one.

Kytrel had fought alongside the Nephilim in the battle to kill the things that lived in the shadows, the things that should have been taken care of by the Powers, but was neglected to kill the Nephilim. And the more times that he seemed to save a Nephilim from a deathblow, the more that they seemed to trust him.

And this was something that the former Powers angel needed, because something Gabriel, the Labrador not Archangel, had told him. That Kytrel had a smell about him, a stink that came with the Powers. And that was why they hated him, and Kytrel couldn't blame them, not after the hell that his kind had put them through and were about to do again.

There was one thing, though, that Kytrel was having trouble with, above all else, was himself.

Ever since Aaron Corbet's Nephilim power's changed him, Kytrel was having trouble with his own angelic power.

His wings were no longer his own.

When he went into battle with the Nephilim, he made sure that they were gone before he let out his wings and enfolded himself, and when he reappeared, he was quick to force them back into his mortal body. Kytrel was sure that he avoided aerial-combat against the creatures and stuck with his flaming longbow of heavenly fire.

Many times over, the angel found himself admiring each of their Nephilim wings.

Most were white speckled with brown, they were beautifully natural. And though Aaron's were ebony, much like Lucifer's, were glorious. Vilma's were pure snow-white, the colour that Kytrel's used to be and the angel was filled with envy and jealousy at the sight of them, because his were mismatched and patchy- un-pure and tainted.

That was the point of all these mirrors. Kytrel needed to assimilate himself to his new image.

He'd stand in the middle of the small 8by9 room, his back bare and his wings exposed, the only light coming in the form of a sunbeam shinning through the hole in the roof, hitting the angel just perfectly. His wings were closed against his back, partially open- fully would tear the shed down.

And he forced to look a at them.

For hours his gaze was unblinking.

He'd only close his eyes briefly when the sinful thoughts entered his mind- the thought of cutting the Almighty's gift from his back. But until then…

The angel breathed in and out, his wings fallowing along with movement, wanting the moment when they left his mind. Kytrel opened his eyes and stepped forward to inspect a specific mirror that held his image, the one that was accurate with his face height.

The wings on his back were not the only things that were not _his_ any longer- that were not of Camael.

Kytrel's left eye was dark and gold-flecked- it was Aaron's eye, _Lucifer's_ eye. On those two, it was again beautiful. A feature that was chosen by the Creator for _them._

On this angel, it didn't seem to take.

Kytrel had lied to the Morningstar and the two Nephilim when he had fist arrived here. It was a little one. Something that if it was said out of context, could mean a completely other thing.

And those three had not known, and so the former Powers angel had gotten away with it.

It made Kytrel happy, confident in himself- special- for his existence to be that of the same with Camael. But it was not the truth. A lie, a blemish to be placed upon his name.

While it had been true that Camael and himself had been created by the same part of the Almighty, Camael had been created first and Kytrel second. But only after God had seen what greatness Camael was, and then Kytrel was made in the same mould. His own existence was because of Camael's successful one.

Kytrel looked at his features closely in the reflective surface- none of these belonged to him, they were all just borrowed- he was a copy.

The angel clenched his fist, it growing warm with his frustration, and he could contain it no longer. It shot up and out, his fist impacting with center of the frail yet hard surface. It cracked, like ice, as it fractured into several different sections. It held as each piece held his reflection, everyone minimally out of sync with each other.

It seemed to fit the way he was feeling, and his appearance. And he came to wonder as he looked at his fractured appearance, when he became so insecure. It did not take long for Kytrel to find the answer: ever since Aaron Corbet touched him, he had never felt the same. Though he would never blame the Nephilim; this was a test for him- one that he was gradually failing for he was thinking what come to pass if he were to remove his left eye.

_Would it grow back_? He wondered.

When he'd lost the same eye the fisrt time, eight-hundred years had come to pass and it hadn't. But maybe it would be different, maybe Aaron had changed him deep than the surface, and it would grow back to match his right one.

It would be painful, of course- it was the first time and it would be again, he wasn't obtuse. But first his wings. One of the Nephilim lost his wings, but it was already starting to grow; maybe the same would happen for him.

Kytrel realized that he would not get over this, it felt as if he had been pissed upon. The Almighty's creation was not perfection as it should be, so Kytrel would take away the blemishes.

The angel's palm grew hot and hotter still, until his fingertips sparked and heavenly fire tongued out, shaping itself into what the angel desired- a scalpel with a 3 centimetre short, very sharp blade.

Kytrel took in a heavy breath as he grasped his black and white spotted wing at the base near his shoulder blade with his free hand. He could feel every trifling twitch that the muscular appendage made beneath his fingertips.

His next breath in was shuddering as his hand with the blade stretched over his head. Kytrel could feel the heat of in on his bare shoulder and so could his wing as the scarce amount of downy white feathers there, blanked.

His spotted wing started to flapping frantically, trying to get away from the knife despite the fact that he and it were connected. There was nowhere for it to go in the cramped space, and the feathered appendage just kicked up old dust and mould into the air.

It stung his eyes, but he continued to try and gain control over his wing. Kytrel was sure that he almost had it under control when its neighbour started up as well, realizing that it to, after its second half, would be done for.

It was like a mini storm in the small shed, the tips of his wings rocking it on its foundations, mirrors crashing to the floor and into hundreds of shards. The blade in his hand bit into his shoulder hotly before it finally dropped from his hand, it dispersing in a _hiss _before it could hit the floor.

"_What is going on in here?!"_

Without the threat of the small blade, Kytrel's wings finally fluttered to a calming stop and the angel turned around to where the door was and who had made the demand.

Lucifer Morningstar stood in the open doorway.

Kytrel wasn't sure what to say at being caught so near red-handed, so all he could come up with was… "Nothing,"

"Nothing?" Lucifer questioned.

The angel nodded, his lips tight as his wings twitched with the unease of the situation and the traumatic experience they had just gone through.

Lucifer stepped into the trashed space, the door swinging shut behind him and the room was once again cast in shadow. He didn't look convinced.

Kytrel quickly grew uneasy underneath the dark piercing gaze, and he found that he was very close to buckling under its power. He was convinced that the Morningstar knew, knew what he had been about to do.

How long had he been standing there?

_Did he see?_

The former Powers angel was ashamed, as ashamed as he had been when he made the confession of wishing the Verchiel had taken mercy and killed him. He broke the gaze and looked to the broken shards that scattered the floor.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Kytrel confessed. "I am an abomination in the Almighty's name."

And realizing that said parts were in view, the angel was quick to make his ugly wings disappear from sight.

"You are _not_ an abomination, Kytrel!" Lucifer told him with passion in his voice. _He hated the word. _"Anything that God creates could never be considered such an atrocity. Not any Nephilim, human or angel- fallen or otherwise."

Kytrel did not look convinced… not about himself, at least. Human's were beautiful creatures (so much so that the angel grew jealous), Nephilim were an extraordinary mishap, and the angels were perfection- all except for him that was.

And the angel said as much.

Lucifer's expression tightened with his rage at this omission, and the air grew stuffy with it.

And Lucifer Morningstar gave him an open-handed blow.

Kytrel gasped in pain and shock as he stumbled back with the force of the slap, his cheek burning as if it were on fire. He touched the assaulted flesh with his fingertips and felt the blisters that clothed his cheek.

The former Powers angel looked to the second-hand of God with fear, his chin trembling with it.

Lucifer looked him up and down, shaking his head- he didn't look apologetic in the least.

"When you speak that way, you put all of the Almighty's creations to shame." The fallen told him as he stepped to the angel who he had come to call friend, his black wings out upon his back and flapping so gently that they created no breeze, not even a draft. "You are beautiful. My son is the Chosen One and so it was God's Will that you were healed in such a way- _in such a way that you are now more than you once were._"

Kytrel's hand fell from his cheek as his eyes looked intently into his friend's. Such beautiful words said in such a beautiful voice.

They had to be the truth.

Lucifer reached out and touched the injury with the tips of cool, and delicate fingers. The angel's eyes closed at the touch, the Morningstar's words of truth making their way deeper inside of him.

"I want to see your wings," Lucifer whispered.

And Kytrel had no other choice than to allow them out. They sprang from his shoulder blades, happy to be accepted once again after such a long while and not caring for the small space.

They tore through the walls on either side of the angels, as if they were a pile of leaves, flapping powerfully to knock aside the falling debris and blew away the dust. Kytrel breathed in the clean air as he basked in the warm rays of his old friend.

Lucifer smiled at the amazing sight.

The sun reflected off the angel's nude skin in such a way that it looked as if he were sparkling. It took the Morningstar's breath away and reminded him of home- _Heaven._ This caused his own wings to join in the freedom of space as well.

Both their wings flapped at a leisurely pace.

Kytrel finally looked back at Lucifer, his cheek healed. "Thank you," He said.

"I heard that the action worked quite well down here."

Kytrel smiled softly. "I lied to you before-"

Lucifer shook his head and held up his hand to stop the other angel. "That doesn't matter."

The former Powers angel let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders straightening before he gave the Morningstar a wink, and with the powerful muscles in his back, leapt into the sky. His wings pushing strongly against the air.

Lucifer watched him for a moment, revelling at the stunning sight before he too, thrust himself into the air and after his friend.

_F_

_Hope you liked it and hope that you will tell me your thoughts. I will be writing another fic for "The Fallen" series called: __**Eye of the Beholder**__. It will also be focused on Lucifer Morningstar and Kytrel._


End file.
